Newsffrom St. James's. - Poem by Mary Barber

The Cretan Sage began the Charge,Recounted all his Crimes at large;His Insincerity, and Pride,His Hundred evil Arts beside;Arts, thinly veil'd with Virtue's Guise,The modern Statesmens Scheme to rise.

He, cringing, owns his Guilt, with Shame;Yet from himself would shift the Blame;Insists, that since the World began,Kings seldom rais'd the virtuous Man:(Some Instances must be allow'd,Tho' almost lost in such a Croud)That Courts were other Things of late,Than when he rul'd the Cretan State:That those who breathe in them, will find,The tainted Air corrupts the Mind.

Courtier, the Judge reply'd, beware--Theander has resided there;The third of an accomplish'd Race,Who fill'd successively one Place:Yet see the Stream of Virtue run,Untainted down from Sire to Son:Humane their Hearts, enlarg'd, refin'd,With ev'ry Gift to bless their Kind;In Friendship's noblest Zeal sincere;In Honour amiably severe;Steady to Faith, and Truth, and Right;With open Honesty, polite;With no Disguise in Sptech, or Spirit,But Modesty, the Mask of Merit.

True, Minos--yet you must agree,These Instances conclude for me.They uncorrupt have brearh'd that Air;But how have they succeeded there?